


The Killing Type

by VenusianLullaby



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusianLullaby/pseuds/VenusianLullaby
Summary: Treavor Pendleton wasn’t the killing type. He preferred others to do the killing for him, usually — but not in the case of his older brothers, Custis and Morgan, who had abused him since he was a child.Now, Morgan sat on the couch, mouth open, staring at the ceiling with his lifeless eyes, while Treavor stood over Custis’s dead body, covered in blood.Treavor Pendleton wasn’t the killing type — but he’d run out of patience.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks [ spider_fingers ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spider_fingers/pseuds/spider_fingers) for their help with editing!

Treavor Pendleton wasn’t the killing type. He preferred others to do the killing for him, usually — but not in the case of his older brothers, Custis and Morgan, who had abused him since he was a child.

Now, Morgan sat on the couch, mouth open, staring at the ceiling with his lifeless eyes, while Treavor stood over Custis’s dead body, covered in blood.

Treavor Pendleton wasn’t the killing type  — b ut he’d run out of patience. 

***

He was not sure when the abuse started. As far as he could remember, the twins always either ignored him, or did cruel things to him. The first thing Treavor remembered about Custis and Morgan was them trying to drown him in the bath and laughing. Treavor had been four years old then. 

He tried telling his father, but the man did nothing about it, and stepmother had told him they were just fooling around. Boys were like that, and Treavor should be too. 

Every time he cried, Custis and Morgan called him pussy, crybaby, or simply slapped him in the face “to calm him down” (which had never _ ever _ helped).

Treavor knew no one one was ever going to help him. Father didn’t care. Servants couldn’t possibly do anything to affect the twins’ behaviour. At one point Custis said that he would cut his tongue out or feed him to the hounds if he tried to snitch. So Treavor had to shut up and tolerate everything, every cruel prank his brothers came up with. 

Unless he was with Wallace, his servant, who was about the only person who listened to him without judging, without telling him that he deserved it. Wallace couldn’t do anything about it as he was just a servant, but just talking it out with someone he could trust was enough. 

He thought he could trust Waverly too, but turned out she was laughing behind his back the whole time. 

Every day he thought that it would be easier to end it all. Why wait until his brothers pull something off that would, for sure, kill him? He could end it all, anytime he wished to. On his own terms. Put a gun to his head, drop off the balcony (or off the rooftop), get himself in a duel and lose on purpose… 

The shameful truth is, Treavor was afraid of dying. 

Also, the twins would be joyous. He couldn’t allow it. He’d rather have his hand cut off than give them the satisfaction of killing himself. 

So, he drank. A lot.  Alcohol killed slowly; he would still have time to enjoy life (if there was even anything left to enjoy). 

He hardly ever confronted them. Until the hunting trip happened.

The bullet went right past his shoulder. Custis and Morgan were laughing, while Treavor stood there, frozen. He didn’t talk to them for the rest of the trip. 

But when they returned to the mansion, he lost it. 

“My life is nothing but a joke to you, isn’t it?” Treavor asked, his voice shaking with anger.

Custis and Morgan looked at each other silently. 

“All my life,” he continued, “and you’ve never shown any affection to anyone, not even to me, your  _ brother _ . The drowning, the vipers, the bullets — what are you trying to accomplish?!” 

His voice was getting louder with every word. 

“We’re simply trying to teach you to stand up for yourself, Treavor,” Morgan said calmly with a smirk on his face.

“But all you can do is cry like a baby,” Custis finished. “Boo-hoo, my brothers are abusing me, please, have pity on me,” he said mockingly. “You’ll never be the Pendleton heir. You are a disgrace to this family. Weak. Just like our father was.” 

“Don’t you dare, Custis,” Treavor snarled. “You’re gonna pay for this. One day, you’re gonna pay for all of this.” 

The twins laughed. “Oh, please. What are you gonna do, little Treavor? Cry us to death? You’re not capable of anything but whining.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Treavor said and went to his room, slamming the door on his way in.


	2. Chapter 2

Treavor was weak and a coward, that was true. He  _ could _ hire an assassin to kill his own brothers, and no one would ever even think that was him. But this would only prove Custis’s point, about him not being able to defend himself. He needed to prove them wrong. Even if it meant killing them with his own hands.

But to do this, he needed to learn to protect himself. Thankfully, he had an ex-admiral and an overseer as his colleagues.

He mentioned his idea to Havelock and Martin during their next meeting at the Hound Pits pub. They were surprised, to say the least. 

“Treavor…” Martin said softly. “Are you sure you wanna do this? You’ll have to  _ live _ with it.”

“Yes,” Pendleton answered. “I’m afraid that’s not up for discussion.” 

“Have you thought of other methods? More stealthy, less risky. Poison, razor springs, swarms of rats, hired as—”

“No,” Treavor interrupted him. “Then they won’t know  _ who _ killed them.”

“And why is that important?”

Treavor didn’t answer right away. He scolded himself for not telling this in private conversation with the admiral alone. 

“I think that’s none of your business, Teague,” he said at last. 

“So,”  said Havelock, done with simply listening and watching , “you want to learn how to fight? How to defend yourself? I can help with that, but it won’t be easy for you, lord Pendleton.” 

“I understand.”

“You’ll fail. A lot. But if you  _ really _ want to pull this off…”

“I thought I made it clear  that it isn't up for  discussion. I understand your point, Admiral. I’m ready.” 

Havelock nodded. Martin mumbled, “They always say so,” but Pendleton chose to ignore it. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you here tomorrow.” 

“Yes, of course.” 

So, for the next six months it was all blood, sweat and tears for Treavor Pendleton. Every day Havelock and Martin helped him to learn sword techniques, hand-to-hand self-defense, and shooting. They both thought he would quit in a week. If not in a week, then in a month. If not in a month, then in two months. 

To their surprise, Pendleton was one hell of a stubborn lord. He complained a lot at first, but then, it seemed, he got used to it.

Sometimes, he would be approached by Martin after training  —  or during a break  —  with a glass of water Pendleton drank dry. Teague usually said something about how he had done a good job today, nothing more. 

It was only on the appointed day Martin decided to talk to him. 

“What, here to try and talk me out of it?” Treavor snarled when Martin came in. 

“No,” Martin said in a calm voice. “I just want to know why.”

“I thought I told you this is none of your business.”

He wouldn’t say anything. If he started talking about all of the things the twins had done, he wouldn’t stop; and  didn't have time for this at the moment.

“They hurt you, didn’t they? And now you’re out for revenge.”

“How in the Outsider’s name...”

“You don’t have to be a detective to know,” Teague interrupted him. “Everyone knows the twins are loutish.”

Teague drew himself closer. 

“You’ve never killed a single living being before, have you?” he asked calmly, his voice dropping lower.

Pendleton nodded. 

“Well, then… Just mark my words, taking someone’s life for the first time, it’s…difficult, to say the least. Emotionally draining. And you’re not exactly the killing type.” 

“When you live how I lived, you would become the killing type.” 

Martin simply nodded, which annoyed Treavor. Deep inside, he  _ wanted _ Martin to talk him out of this. 

“What, not going to tell me the best revenge is forgiveness?” Treavor chuckled while holding his sword in both hands.

“No,” Teague said calmly. “Some people don’t deserve forgiveness.” 

How  _ dare  _ he to say his family didn’t deserve forgiveness?! 

“And you, Treavor…” Teague said, taking his hand. “You deserve someone better than your brothers.” 

Well, that was unexpected. No one said things like that to him, ever —

“I’ll be here when you need me,” Teague said softly before releasing his hand and leaving the room

Why would Martin even say something like that? He always seemed to care only about the mission. Treavor never considered them anything more than colleagues, but from the way Martin talked, how he held his hand… It seemed he considered them as more than just colleagues. Teague considered them  _ friends _ . Or maybe… Maybe more than friends?

Anyway, he’d worry about Martin later. Right now he had brothers to kill. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a quiet day in the Pendleton mansion, but Custis and Morgan weren’t so happy about staying in there: they would rather spend their time at the Golden Cat than meet with their despised younger brother. He said he just wanted to talk  —  after all, they almost never talked heart-to-heart. 

It wasn’t something exactly suspicious. Treavor had always been… sentimental . What harm could it do to just listen to him once in a while? Or make it look like they’re listening? 

Who would’ve thought it might actually get them killed?

Before going after the twins, Treavor changed his clothes to a black suit, and the sudden change of clothing surprised the twins. 

“What, did someone die?” Custis chuckled.. 

_ Oh, yes, they’re about to, dear brother,  _ went through Treavor’s mind, but he didn’t say a thing. 

“Do you want some wine, dear brothers?”

Custis shook his head. “I’m already drunk.” 

Morgan, however, eagerly took the bottle from Treavor’s hand and poured himself a drink. 

Little did he know the wine was poisoned. 

Well, at least now Treavor didn’t have to worry about fighting both of them anymore. 

“Why are you here anyway?” Custis asked. 

“Just wanted to say thank you.” 

Morgan chuckled. “For what?”

“You were, indeed, trying to teach me to protect myself. Thanks for abusing me my whole life. I know what I have to do now.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Morgan dried the glass in one gulp, which was his mistake  — b ecause a while after that the poison kicked in. 

“Custis…” Morgan said, choking. “The wine… I don’t… Feel good...”

Custis ran to Morgan, who was lying on the floor now and couldn’t seem to focus his gaze.

“What did you do?” he said through his teeth.

“Oh, I poisoned it.”

Morgan, still choking, pushed the wine down the table and the bottle broke. Custis got up, tried to grab Treavor by the cravat to pin him down, but Treavor grabbed his hand and looked in his eyes. 

He realized: this was going to be his last fight. It was either him or Custis. A fight for their lives which he couldn’t afford to lose. 

He was scared. Maybe Martin was right, maybe he wasn’t the killing type. 

On second thought, Custis wasn’t trained to kill by Admiral Havelock. 

Treavor released his hand and they grabbed their blades at the same time. 

One, two, three…

Custis struck first, and he struck quick  —  Treavor was lucky to block his sword at the right time, otherwise he would have been killed in an instant. 

He managed to push Custis away, but the man didn’t fall. 

“Is that the best you can do?” said Custis with a smirk on his face. 

Treavor knew this phrase: Custis used it every time Treavor tried to oppose him, tried to defend himself but couldn’t. After that, Custis used to proceed with harder punches, and he would certainly do that now, unless Treavor struck first. 

He would not be the victim, not anymore. 

Breathing heavily, Treavor clenched his hand around the grip of his sword in his hand and moved forward, raised his sword to distract him, made him block his punch  —  which was exactly what Custis did, and then… 

Treavor kicked him in the balls so hard Custis dropped to his knees, throwing the sword onto the floor. Then Treavor grabbed him by the collar and threw him down before proceeding to punch until Custis’s face was covered in blood. 

Anger blinded him. Blinded his thinking, his judgement, his eyes. 

“Now you know how this feels,” he snapped.

Custis still managed to smirk, despite the pain it gave him.

“You won. Who would've thought.”

Treavor took his sword and said, “Goodbye, brother,” before cutting Custis’s throat.

Then he dropped to his knees and put the blade down again.

“I’ve done it,” he said quietly. 

His fingers touched Custis’s face and noticed that the blood started to dry. Adrenaline was still pumping in his ears. 

His long-time abusers were dead. A part of his family was dead  —  because of him. Treavor couldn’t figure out how he felt about that.

“I’ve done it,” he said again, louder, but felt like something stuck in his throat. Then the tears started to run down his face. 

One of the maids opened the door and saw lord Pendleton standing on his knees over Custis’s dead body. She slowly walked towards Treavor. 

“What…” she asked quietly.

“Will you help me clean up?” Treavor asked her. 

The maid nodded .  Her eyes were wide open, as if she was afraid of what Treavor might do if she refused to help him. 

“Don’t worry, I have no intentions of killing you,” he said, as softly as he could. “You’ve probably suffered a lot from their cruel  _ pranks _ too, haven’t you?” 

The maid nodded. “They weren’t pranks. Not for us,” the maid rolled up her sleeves. “My whole body is covered in these.” 

What on earth had they done to the servants?! 

“I’m so sorry…” he mumbled. “I had no idea…” 

“It’s not just me. They’ve done this to all of the maids. They order something, then, when we’re in their room, they tie us to the bed and…” The maid closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “We’re never told anyone. We were nothing to them but pretty things.” 

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, and then put his trembling hand on her shoulder. “What’s your name?” 

“Maria.” 

Treavor nodded. “Maria,” he said, quietly. “Let’s feed their bodies to rats. After that, I’ll give you money, you’ll go anywhere you want to, and pretend you never saw me, or knew me, or any of the remaining Pendletons. It should be between you and me only.” 

Maria nodded and turned to the door. Before she went out to call the other servants, however, she turned and said. “You should change your clothes, Lord Pendleton. I’ll see what I can find.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Usually, Treavor didn’t mind having a lot of people around, but right now it was the last thing he needed. 

God, how he wanted to be back at the Hound Pits pub and drink not alcohol but a cup of hot tea and talk to Martin, but of course he had to give this stupid eulogy at his brothers’ funerals. 

He had wasted so many papers on writing his speech but nothing coherent came out of his pen. So he decided to improvise. 

“My dear brothers, Custis and Morgan, are dead. Killed by the masked assassin who has been terrorizing the streets of Dunwall for the last few days, eliminating all of the Lord Regent’s associates.” 

The audience gasped. Treavor’s hands were shaking. He wanted to go away as soon as possible, cry in some quiet corner of the mansion, but he had to keep talking. He had to. 

“I can’t say I’m sad about this. I can’t say I’m happy either. If they had lived, there could have been a chance to redeem themselves. Now that chance is gone. On the other hand, maybe they didn't deserve a second chance. Perhaps they don’t deserve forgiveness. ” 

The audience started whispering. Treavor was going to tell the truth about them right here and now. His heart was racing. 

“Yes. I know I’m not supposed to say this, but my brothers were terrible people. Ever since my childhood I suffered from their so-called jokes,” Treavor felt a small smirk creeping up his face and he let out a small chuckle. “Jokes that almost got me killed.” 

Treavor could give them a whole list of things his brothers had done to him, to other people, bring up all of the dirt… Oh, that would have been delightful. But it would take too long. 

“But it’s all in the past now. Alas, I cannot possibly undo every harmful thing Custis and Morgan did. But I can try to be better. This is going to be a new beginning for the Pendletons. I’ll make sure of that.” 

***  
After all the necessary work had been done, Treavor was finally free to return to the Hound Pits. Oh, how he wanted to be away from what remained of the Pendleton family, especially his cousin Celia. The twins were dead, but she was alive and well. 

He was met by Wallace. Finally, a familiar face that had never said a bad word to him. 

“Good morning, m’lord. How are you feeling?” 

“Like a weeper,” Treavor said. “I’d die for a cup of hot tea right now.” 

“Shall I bring it to your room?”

“Yes. And if overseer Martin is here, send him to my room too. I need to speak to him as soon as possible.” 

“Will do, milord. Anything else I can do for you?”

“No, that’ll be all.”

Wallace nodded and they went inside the pub, and before Pendleton turned to the stairs, he put a hand on Wallace’s shoulder and said, “You are a good man, Wallace. Thank you.” 

Wallace looked slightly surprised at Pendleton’s sudden affection, but said, “The pleasure is all mine.” 

***   
Treavor was sitting on the couch with his face buried in hands when he heard a knock on the door. 

“Treavor, it’s Martin. Wallace told me you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, yes. Come in.”

Teague came in and closed the door behind him. Then he sat down beside Treavor and put his hand on Pendleton’s shoulder. 

“How are you?” he said softly. 

Pendleton shook his head. 

“I killed him, Teague,” he said quietly, his voice breaking, his hands still shaking. He could barely hold back tears. “I killed Custis. Sliced his throat.”

“And Morgan?”

“Poisoned.”

Teague nodded. After a small pause, Treavor continued. “He would have killed me if I were less fortunate. I could’ve died… Outsider’s eyes, what was I thinking?!”

He put his head on Teague’s shoulder and started crying. 

“You were right, Teague,” he said, his voice muffled by the overseer’s thick coat. “I’m not the killing type.”

Martin said nothing and pulled Treavor closer, his hand on the nobleman’s waist now — and in this exact moment Wallace walked in, bringing the tea, but Pendleton didn’t pay attention to the man. It wasn’t like Wallace hadn’t seen him crying before.

Treavor mumbled a ‘thank you’ just before Wallace went out the door.

“Do you ever want to run away from… everything?” Treavor asked when the door had closed.

“All the time, Treavor,” Martin said softly. “All the time.”

Treavor chuckled. “Maybe we should run away. To Serkonos, maybe. With the money I have we could buy a house somewhere in Karnaca.”

Martin smiled. “And what will we do when we run out of money? At least I can be a part of the Grand Guard, and you’ll be… What?”

Pendleton waved his hand in the air. “We’ll figure something out.”

Then Pendleton sat straight and looked Teague right in the eyes.

“Why are you here, Teague? I mean, really.” 

Teague pursed his lips and looked away. 

“I’ve… killed people, and I’ve seen people get killed, and no one was there for me. I thought if I could be there for a friend, then they would handle it better than I did.” He looked at Treavor again.

“But why the sudden change of heart? It’s not like you cared that much for me before… this.”

Martin tilted his head a little and smiled softly. “Maybe I did, but you were just too self-absorbed and stubborn to notice.”

Treavor straightened up and he felt his muscles tense a little. He wanted to say that Teague was wrong, that he always took notice of how people treated him, but the fact was… That wasn’t true. The past six months had been so exhausting that yes, he had to admit, he had never thought about anyone but himself, and maybe it was time he changed that. So he smiled back and took his cup of tea. “Indeed, I was.”

“But… you’ve changed,” Martin said, almost interrupting him. “I mean — a tea, a ‘thank you’... What happened back at the mansion, exactly? Besides you killing your brothers, I mean.”

This time, Treavor looked away and swallowed. It was hard to talk about. Really hard.

“The servants talked to me about what my brothers were doing to them. Some even showed me their scars. The least I can do now is be a little bit… Nicer to them.”

Martin stroked his cheek and Pendleton leaned into his touch. “You’re the bravest man I know.” 

“I’m not just a friend to you, am I?” Treavor finally asked.

Martin chuckled. “Smart, too.”

So, Teague loved him. Treavor wasn’t entirely sure if he loved Teague back, though.

“I have a lot on my mind right now, you see.”

“I understand,” Martin said as he got up. “Well, Corvo probably woke up already. We have to interrogate Sokolov.”

Treavor grabbed his hand and said, “Thank you. For being here.”

Martin’s smile was wide, and Treavor’s heart ached a little. 

Maybe life with Martin somewhere far from here was worth a try, after all.


End file.
